


Dancing

by valarmorghulisbitch



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 16:34:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valarmorghulisbitch/pseuds/valarmorghulisbitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The bloody show will be the death of me - here's a one-shot inspired by the depressing ending of The Sign of Three: less depressing and with more Jimlock. Jim's survival is implied and the work could be read as a supplement to Death or Freedom which I've written earlier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing

Sherlock unlocked the door and slipped quietly upstairs – the flat was dark and empty, the hall littered with boxes John hadn’t yet collected to move to his new home. Sherlock began his slow descent up the stairs when he caught a faint whisper of music coming from his rooms – he stopped short and flinched when the floorboards under his feet creaked loudly. The detective ran through a possible list of intruders and before he could stop himself, pushed open the door to the living room to find the supposedly deceased Jim Moriarty humming to the recording of Sherlock’s own violin performance.

  
“Bloody hell,” Sherlock cursed under his breath. “Are you out of your mind? For God’s sake, you’re supposed to be dead, Jim! Why the hell would you come here – what if it were Mrs. Hudson who returned early and not me?”

  
“Oh but we both know you’re the only one who would feel out of place at such a joyous event,” Jim gave the detective a sly smile. “I was bored, honey, you know how I get…”

  
“Should have gone to a bar in one of your fake beards then,” Sherlock muttered collapsing onto the couch.

  
“Someone’s not in the mood,” Jim pouted and reached into his jacket pocket for a cigarette causing another frown from Sherlock.

  
“They’re all so bloody happy,” he complained. “John, Mary, Mrs. Hudson – laughing, drinking, dancing.” Sherlock let out an exasperated sigh, snitched the cigarette out of Jim’s mouth – already lit – and took a drag.

  
“Dancing, huh,” Jim mused. “You’re quite a dancer yourself, Sherlylocks.”

  
“Don’t tell me you’ve been stalking me through the window, Jim, that is bloody ridiculous. Your fake suicide was intended to be a bloody holiday for you and yet you stick around London and stare into my windows,” Sherlock continued to feign annoyance, but Moriarty knew him too well.

  
“Maybe I miss you and your grumbling,” he teased. “Besides, I knew you wouldn’t last long at John’s wedding – soon enough, you’d feel like an outsider, like you don’t belong, and run back to your apartment…”

  
Sherlock attempted to conceal his hurt look by busying himself with his laptop and attempting to find the tab from which his violin recording was playing.

  
“And here I’d be, waiting for the pleasure of dancing with the infamous Sherlock Holmes,” Jim finished and waited silently for Sherlock’s reaction.

When it finally came, the detective didn’t even bother hiding a smile – all the time spent with John left him feeling oddly sentimental. He chuckled softly as Jim bounced to his feet, extended his hand, and bowed. “Shall we?” Rolling his eyes and moaning about the sheer stupidity of the arrangement, Sherlock nonetheless took the criminal’s hand demanding that he lead. The pair waltzed around in lazy circles for a few moments, Jim’s cigarette dangling from Sherlock’s lips, neither man saying a word. When the quiet lulling of the violin eventually stopped and Sherlock found himself by the window with Jim’s arms around his neck and their lips pressed softly together, he wished that he’d left the wedding earlier.


End file.
